Beyond the Middle Earth Sunrise
by StarsAbove221B
Summary: Four Middle Earth explorers cross the eastern border of Middle Earth and discover a strange new world. Meanwhile, a Narnian centauress longs to see what lies beyond the mountains of Narnia. The POV alternates between Heorim and Winterberry with each chapter.
1. Chapter 1 - Heorim

**Quite a bit of research went into this story, but it is not perfectly accurate. Please sit back and enjoy the story as it is. It is not meant to be 100% accurate, just to be a fun, enjoyable story, so please don't take it too seriously.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Middle Earth or Narnia.**

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 **Chapter 1 - Héorim**

We only left Minas Tirith three days ago, but it feels like it's been a lifetime. I've never been on an expedition before, and so far I don't like it much. I've ridden horses almost every day of my life in Rohan, but never for this long, and my backside is unimaginably sore.

Ember rides just ahead of me, sitting perfectly straight in her saddle. Of course. She's a nice enough girl, I suppose, but Bree-Landers get on my nerves. I don't understand how she ended up on this expedition. She's so young: only sixteen years old. Mind you, I'm only eighteen. Her golden hair hops a little with each step her mount takes, and it shimmers like dragon's treasure in the midday sun.

Lûthriel and Berenion take the lead, conversing amiably as they ride. They have always seemed to get along well, the Mirkwood elf and the young Gondorian lord. I feel quite lonely as I ride my plodding horse, Arodreth, at the back. I named him for the elven phrase 'noble endurance', but he doesn't seem to be living up to that name today.

The scenery around here is exactly the same, day after day: just plains. This is one of the reasons I wasn't upset when I was asked to come. I wanted to see new places, new sights, but this is exactly what I saw every day at home in Edoras. If only it would change! I can see the mountains on the horizon, but they never seem to get any closer. I wish we could hurry and get to them. No, I wish we could skip the journey and get right to the destination: the land beyond the western borders of Middle Earth.

No one's ever been there before, and the four of us have been assigned the honor of being the first. We're traveling northeast at the moment, heading for the Ash Mountains along the northern border of what was once Mordor, many years past. We'll follow the mountains east through Rhûn and keep going until we reach the Mountains of the East. Then we will cross those into whatever land lies on the other side. But until we reach it, we have this insufferable journey through the plains.

I wish I had someone to talk to, but the only person who isn't already talking to somebody is Ember, and there is no way I'm talking to her. So I sit out the rest of the day in brooding silence, swaying back and forth upon Arodreth's back, restlessly fingering the sword cinched at my waist. I wonder if I'll get to use it.

In the evening, as we set up camp and start a fire, Berenion stands and announces, "If we keep going at this pace, we should reach the Ash Mountains in five days."

"Couldn't we speed up a little?" Ember suggests, her young voice jingling through the chilling air. This is the first time I've agreed with her.

"We could, if everyone is in agreement."

"Won't it tire the horses faster?" Lûthriel asks.

"Héorim?" Berenion turns to me. "What do you think?"

"Horses are strong; a little extra speed won't hurt them," I assure him.

Berenion nods. "Then if everyone agrees?"

I nod eagerly, as does Ember. Lûthriel calculates for a moment, then joins our assent quietly.

"Done, then!" Berenion cries. "Tomorrow we'll speed up our progress. It should save us a day, at least."

Ember stretches out on her cloak while Lûthriel tends the fire, softly singing an elven song. Berenion sets up for first watch at the edge of the camp. Groaning with exhaustion, I lie stiffly on the lumpy ground and let the soft lilt of Lûthriel's melody lull me into uncomfortable sleep.


	2. Chapter 2 - Winterberry

**Chapter 2 - Winterberry**

I wander the Western Woods this morning. Father asked me to bring some apples and berries for breakfast, but I don't want to return home just yet. The birds are singing cheerfully, the woodland creatures chatter amongst themselves, and I feel the sun warm my body as it rises. A slight breeze whispers in the trees and the brook babbles alongside me.

 _I love my home_ , I think, smiling into the sunrise. _I love Narnia._

However true that may be, I still feel drawn to the mountains, as I do every day. They rise majestically just beyond the woods, taunting me with their high peaks and deep valleys. I've mentioned it to Father so many times, but he always tells me the same thing: be wise, and don't get into things that aren't your business.

That's the problem with being a centaur. I'm expected to live by my head, not my heart, however much it may call me. Centaurs must be wise, must not go looking for trouble, must not try anything new. Father would disagree, but I know I'm right. I wish I lived five hundred years ago, when the great kings and queens reigned over Narnia and centaurs were brave and adventurous.

I hear Father calling me home and suddenly realize I've wandered much farther than I meant to. The mountains have grown much closer, and I'm drawn to them more than ever. But Father would worry, and so I turn around and trot back to our cave, snatching a few apples and berries along the way.

"What took you so long, Winterberry?" Father asks me in his deep, strong voice as I arrive. He stands in the wide clearing outside the cave, staring up at the sky to read the last stars of the morning.

"Nothing, Father." I lay my harvest in the basket before him, hoping he'll forget about it.

He tears his gaze from the stars and studies me. I can't stand it when he does that. It's like he's staring into my mind, trying to discern my thoughts, which I suppose he probably is.

"It was the mountains again, wasn't it." It isn't a question. He already knows. I nod sullenly, anticipating the coming reprimand.

He sighs and runs a hairy hand over his face. "You need to forget them, Berry. The mountains are too large for a young girl like you. If you go up there, it'll only mean trouble." He gives me a pained look. "I don't know why you have such a fascination with them. Why can't you dream of traveling to Cair Paravel to serve the queen?"

I shrug silently. I know that nothing I say will help the situation.

Father sighs again and hands me an apple for breakfast. I slog to the edge of the clearing, where I sit down against a tree and take a bite of the crunchy apple. As I do, a large red squirrel drops from the branches above me and lands on the ground at my feet.

"Tumblefoot!" I cry happily in a half-whisper. I glance across the grass at Father, who is busy writing on a parchment and hasn't heard me. "It's been days. How was it?"

"The path was steep and rocky, but I think we could manage it, Miss Winterberry," he replies, mimicking my volume. His dark eyes sparkle with mischief and the tufts on his ears twitch in excitement.

"Really? Wonderful! I can't go today, though."

"Why not?"

I think of Father's stern lecture and how he would feel if I left right after it was given to me. "I just can't." Tumblefoot wilts a little, so I add, "We'll do it soon, don't worry."

He bows and scuttles up the tree without another word, disappearing into its broad leaves.

Settling against the tree, I turn my mind to the plan we've been working on for weeks. Together, Tumblefoot and I are going to leave for the mountains. Just for a few hours, then we'll be back. I'll even leave a note for Father so he knows where I've gone. A twinge of guilt creeps through me, but I squash it down. I _have_ to visit the mountains. Even a short venture would abate my curiosity.

 _Just a few hours_ , I tell myself. _That's all_. Somehow the thought doesn't reassure me.


	3. Chapter 3 - Heorim

**Chapter 3 - H** **éorim**

We've finally reached the Mountains of the East, and all that's left is to cross them. We all stare in awe at the looming shadows before us, and my heartbeat races at the sight. Even our horses seem anxious to move today, as opposed to their usual reluctance. They jitter about, tramping their feet, urging us to move on to the next stage of our journey. I reach down to steady Arodreth with a controlling hand on his sturdy neck. Berenion turns his horse and raises his voice to address us.

"My friends," he calls proudly, "our goal has, at long last, been reached. Today we are the first of our people to make this daring move. Today we make history!"

A smattering of polite applause from Ember and Lûthriel closes the moment. It comes to my mind that this is one of the reasons Berenion was chosen for this expedition. As a young diplomat, he's excellent with words.

We follow him into the mountains, and I'm unable to stop myself from following this train of thought. Lûthriel is good with navigation and tracking, Ember documents new birds and animals, but what am I? I can't hunt, can't speak well, I'm not even very friendly, so why am I here? Am I just the horse man, the one who can answer a few questions, make sure the horses aren't mistreated?

"Are you alright?" A voice from beside me mercifully interrupts my troubled thoughts. I only wish it hadn't been Ember. Her question tells me that my thoughts must have shown on my face.

"Yes, I'm fine," I reply curtly.

She looks hurt, and I realize how gruff I was. I can't bring myself to apologize, though, so I turn to take in the surrounding mountains. We're climbing steeply, and the horses are already breathing heavily. The ground isn't terribly rocky – not yet, anyway. Most of it is still yellowing grass and bushes like the plains below. Hardly a single bird flits across the sky, nor are there any other creatures to speak of. The effect is sobering; our loneliness is clearly cut out across the empty landscape.

Lûthriel leads our company now, carving the best path for us. As a slight breeze blows my hair across my face, I hear something. It's like a voice, whispering in the wind. Lûthriel turns a little to the side, and I notice that she looks confused.

"Lûthriel!" I call ahead. "What's wrong?"

She opens her mouth to answer, then thinks better of it and closes it. "Nothing, Master Héorim" is her only reply.

Berenion shrugs the incident off, but Ember stares hard at me, trying to read my thoughts once again through my expression. I ignore her and urge Arodreth a little faster, hoping to leave the Bree-Lander behind. Her horse matches my speed, however, and soon she is interrogating me.

"What happened? Why did you think something was wrong?"

"I didn't. Nothing's wrong." I try to pull ahead again, but again she keeps up.

"Héorim, I've only known you for a few weeks, but I can tell when you're worried." Her expression softens from one of impudent curiosity to one of pure concern. "What's up?"

Looking into that genuinely worried face, I can't put up a fight any longer. Groaning loudly, I give in and tell her what happened. "I heard a voice. A whisper, I suppose, on the wind. That's all. Really."

Her eyes, green as emeralds, bore into mine, trying to determine the truth. Finally, she relaxes, smiles, and says happily, "Okay. I believe you."

"Um…really? You do?"

"Of course. All you had to do was tell me the truth. I'm pretty good at telling when someone is lying, you know."

"Huh." I sneak peeks at her from the corner of my eye for a while after that. I'm no longer quite sure what to make of this girl.


	4. Chapter 4 - Winterberry

**Chapter 4 - Winterberry  
**

"Miss Winterberry! Miss Winterberry!" A small voice whispers into my ear, waking me up.

I peer through cracked eyelids. It's still dark out; the stars shine in the dark sky outside the cave, millions of pinpricks in the canvas of night. I close my eyes again, shift a little, and receive a sharp slap on my forehead. I jerk to a sitting position and become aware of the weight on top of my head.

Tumblefoot's furry little face pokes down into mine, and he speaks to my crossed eyes. "It's time to go!"

"What?"

"To the mountains!" he explains excitedly. He's practically shaking with joy.

Reaching up, I pull him from my sleep-ruffled hair and hold him out in front of me. "We're going tonight?"

He nods as he says matter-of-factly, "Yes, Miss Winterberry. You said so."

"Oh! I did!" A smile spreads across my face as I remember. I cautiously stand and exit the cave, stepping quietly around Father. Running one hand through my hair in an attempt to neaten it, I scratch out a note on one of Father's parchments:

 _Dear Father, don't worry. I've gone to the mountains with Tumblefoot, and we'll be back by the end of the day. Your daughter, Winterberry._

I tuck the parchment under a small rock to keep it from blowing away, snatch up a warm cloak from the table, and then Tumblefoot and I creep into the cover of the Western Woods.

I trot through the undergrowth while Tumblefoot scampers along the branches above me. Only an hour passes before we stand at the base of the mountain. The sky is beginning to lighten, the stars beginning to disappear. Tumblefoot scurries on ahead, deftly clambering over and around rocks, until he notices that I'm not following. I've stopped just before the slope, staring at the grass beneath me, still dark and shadowed in the early morning. Butterfly wings flutter in my stomach.

"Miss Winterberry?" Tumblefoot prompts, beckoning me with a paw. I can tell he is anxious to keep going, and I realize I don't know why I stopped. Maybe it's just my nerves, but I feel like I'm not putting enough emphasis on what I'm about to do.

Tumblefoot's expression begins to show his frustration, so I force a smile and take my first step into the mountains. We carry on up its side, my hooves digging into the steep slope to keep me moving. I'm pleased that the grass still grows here, or I would struggle to keep my grip on the ground.

As we climb higher and higher into the sky, I begin to shiver. Even though the spring sun shines, the clinging chill of winter grows more pronounced the higher we get. My cloak isn't quite sufficient to keep the cold from reaching my skin, no matter how I tug it tighter around me.

Finally, several hours after daybreak, we reach the snowy summit. It occurs to me that Father will have seen my note ages ago, but my mind is distracted by the view. Mountains stretch out before me like a wrinkled, white-speckled blanket under a cloudless blue sky. It's beautiful - the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Beside me, Tumblefoot rolls joyfully in the snow, making loud exclamations of delight. When he gets to his feet, snow clings to him, a frosty coat on his red fur.

"You look like you're old and graying," I joke.

He laughs and shakes himself off. He's about to say something, but he stops and turns away. His ears swivel slightly. He's listening to something. I listen, too, until I hear it: voices. Someone is coming toward us up the mountain.


	5. Chapter 5 - Heorim

**Chapter 5 - Héorim**

I keep hearing the whispers, and they're growing louder day by day. Ember and Berenion still don't hear them. We've reached what Berenion thinks is the last mountain, but although I'm excited to see what lies ahead, the whispers worry me.

"Can you understand them, Lûthriel?" I ask in a hushed voice one evening as we sit huddled around the fire.

She knows what I mean without further explanation, but she shakes her head. "They are not clear enough for me to discern their words, however much I try."

I nod disappointedly and stare into the fire. It dances like the wild horses of Rohan. A twitch of homesickness tugs at me.

In the morning, we continue our journey. We're nearing the crest of the final mountain, and the sun rises into view as we climb, leading our horses, to the top. Berenion is first to reach the top of the slope. I watch his reaction as he stares triumphantly out at the land. Then he looks down and his eyes widen in surprise. A gasp sounds from the other side, in front of him.

That sound is enough to make my tired legs jump into action. I run as fast as I can, slipping and sliding on the snow, Arodreth trying to keep up with me. I reach the top, hurriedly look down–

There's a girl standing there, in the snow, with an enormous red squirrel next to her. She's a beautiful girl, with long, messy, white-blonde hair that matches her…tail. She has a _tail_. And not just that: her body, from the waist down, is a palomino horse.

She stares at us in shock, mirroring how I feel. I've never seen such a creature before in my life. Lûthriel arrives next to me, followed by Ember, who lets out a barely audible gasp, almost a squeak. She's the first to recover, though, and a moment later she slowly steps closer to the girl, saying gently, "Hello, I'm Ember. It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"

I will admit that Bree-Landers seem to be more polite than Rohirrim, or at least than me. Maybe that's why I don't like Ember. But in any case, those would _never_ have been my first words to the girl before us. The girl is frozen to the spot, unable to say a word, but the squirrel hops onto her back and bows.

"This is Miss Winterberry, and I am Tumblefoot, at your service," he says. Ember squeals and stumbles back, almost knocking into me. I'm just as surprised as she is.

"You–you _talked_!" Ember cried.

"Of course I did. What do you take me for, a dumb animal? Huh!" Tumblefoot crosses his arms indignantly.

"Sorry, she didn't mean to offend you," Lûthriel says, a little awe still hanging in her voice. "Animals don't speak where we come from."

Ember, although still wide-eyed, pulls out her sketchbook and ink-loaded quill and begins to draw, stealing occasional glances at our new acquaintances as she does.

"Where do you come from?" The girl – Winterberry, Tumblefoot had called her – speaks up for the first time, curiosity overcoming her shock.

"Middle Earth," I answer. "What is this country?"

"This is Narnia," she tells me. Her tone implies that it should be obvious. "Down there are the Western Woods, where I live." She points down the mountains to a distant woodland.

"We could take you there, if you want," Tumblefoot offers. Winterberry turns urgently to him, clearly annoyed, and they have a quick, whispered argument.

When they finish, Tumblefoot smiles (how does a squirrel _smile_?) and beckons for us to follow him. Then he jumps down from Winterberry's back and scurries down the mountain, sending up clouds of snow in his wake. Winterberry gives us another nervous look before following him. I glance at my companions and start down the mountain into Narnia.


	6. Chapter 6 - Winterberry

**Chapter 6 - Winterberry  
**

I don't want the strange Middle Earthens to follow us home, but Tumblefoot insists. They seem nice enough, I suppose. However, I'm sure Father won't be happy to see them. So as we trip down the rocky mountain, I try not to get too friendly with them. But that's hard when it seems all they want to do is talk to me.

"My name is Héorim," the younger of the two men tells me hesitantly. He doesn't look me in the eye, and that makes me nervous. Is he hiding something? "If you don't mind me asking…what are you? I've never seen anyone who's part horse before."

I keep my gaze straight ahead as I reply, "I'm a centaur. There are many of us in Narnia."

He's silent for a moment before inquiring, "What other creatures live here?"

At these words, the girl who introduced herself as Ember drifts over on her horse and begins to listen, still scratching away in her book.

"Well, there are talking beasts of all types; we also have fauns, nymphs, dwarves, and a few Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve like yourselves, but they usually live in other countries."

"Did you say fauns?" Ember is bright-eyed. I glimpse an incomplete drawing of a centaur, with small notes scribbled around it, on the open pages in her hand. I realize with a start that she's drawing _me_.

"Yes," I answer her, still studying the sketch. "Don't you have any of them in Middle Earth?"

She shakes her head. "We have Hobbits, and Elves, like Lûthriel" – she waves toward the dark-haired woman – "and we have Dwarves and Men, like you do, but none of the others you mentioned."

"Not even talking beasts?"

"No."

I did wonder why their horses were so quiet. How lonely it must get without animals to talk to.

We continue our path down the mountain and into the woods, my dread growing steadily even as we speak pleasantly with each other. I quite like these Middle Earthens, really. But then we enter the glade. Father stands with his back to us, head in hands.

"Father?" I venture meekly.

He jerks around, sees us, and gallops to me, wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug. "Thank the Lion you're safe," he whispers next to my ear. Then he pushes me behind him defensively. He draws a dagger from his belt and glares fiercely at the newcomers. "Who are these people, Berry?"

"It's okay, Father, they're not here to hurt us!"

"Who are they?" he demands.

"We are from Middle Earth, over the mountains," the mail-clad man tells him, holding his hands out consolingly. "My name is Berenion, and these are my companions: Lûthriel, Ember, and Héorim."

"Why are you here, and what are you doing with my daughter?" The intensity in his voice hasn't faded.

"Uuma dela, mellon. We are here to explore, to establish diplomacy, to learn about our neighbors," Lûthriel explains before Berenion has a chance. "We have no evil intent, we simply want to know more about the world we live in."

Father eyes them suspiciously for a moment before slowly lowering his dagger. "You speak a strange tongue, Elf. Alright. You may stay the night here, but you must move on come morning."

"But, Father–"

"No, Berry! They cannot stay here, and we cannot help them any more in their quest. The stars have held unwelcome tidings these last few days, and I fear for our – and especially your – safety. Besides, you and I need to talk." There are rebuking undertones in his voice, and I know I deserve them.

I hang my head. "Yes, Father."

"Good girl. Now, please go help our guests get comfortable."

"Yes, Father."


	7. Chapter 7 - Heorim

**Chapter 7 - Héorim**

I lie on soft grass under the stars, gazing up at them and listening to the excited chattering of nocturnal beasts.

Berenion spoke to the old centaur whose name, we learned, is Silverfall, and decided we are to go to Cair Paravel, the seat of Narnia's royalty. It sounds like yet another long journey, as it is all the way across the kingdom, at the farthest point of land before the sea. At least I'll get to see more of this strange kingdom.

Winterberry badly wants to come with us, and there was a long argument between her and Silverfall which was settled when she pointed out that she was old enough to take care of herself. She also not-so-subtly hinted that we would need a guide: someone who knew Narnia, and who had studied the maps since she was a child. Her father reluctantly gave in, so now the centaur girl and her squirrel are coming with us.

I'm awakened by a soft tap on the shoulder. I hadn't even realized I was asleep. Squinting, I see Ember crouched next to me, beaming. I scowl back at her.

"It's time to go, sleepyhead," she laughs, dragging me to my feet. I yawn widely and stretch before gathering my things and hoisting them onto Arodreth's waiting back.

Winterberry is trotting around the clearing, wringing her hands and beaming. She obviously can't wait to get going. It seems she can't stop talking, either. She keeps hugging her father, thanking him, and telling him once more how excited she is.

With nothing else to do, I join Lûthriel in examining the map we went over last night. The places here have strange titles: Lantern Waste, Dancing Lawn, Allies' Enclave. It seems there's a story behind every name.

Soon everyone is ready to leave, and we gather at the edge of the clearing to mount our horses.

"Why don't you come with us, good sir?" Berenion asks Silverfall. "It seems only right, since your daughter is coming."

But the centaur only shakes his head. "The world is a big place, and my part in it lies here. If Berry thinks hers is elsewhere, sobeit, but I shall not be moved."

"Of course, sir," Berenion agrees with an incline of his head. He turns and urges his horse into the trees, and the others follow.

I stop Arodreth when I see the look on the centaur's face as he stares after Winterberry: one of concern, love, and more than a little regret.

"Don't worry," I reassure him. "She'll come back safe and sound. I promise."

He doesn't reply or even look at me, but I'm certain I see him relax a little, the wrinkles around his eyes soften. Arodreth follows his horse friends, carrying me away before I can say any more. The whispers begin again, following our path through the underbrush. I do my best to ignore them, shaking them from my head. I wonder that the others can't hear them. We travel for hours, passing out of the woods and into grassy fields, where small rodents skitter about in the sun. Tumblefoot hops down to join them.

"Who is your ruler?" I ask Winterberry. The sun is getting low in the sky; soon it will be night.

"Queen Swanwhite. She is renowned for her great beauty throughout Narnia," Winterberry answers, yawning. I don't blame her; it's been a long day. "It is said she is so beautiful that if her face is reflected in a pool, the image of her face will remain in it for a year and a day."

I'm intrigued. Nothing like that has ever been said about Queen Arwen of Gondor, even though she is widely regarded as one of the most beautiful queens in Middle Earth history. "Have you ever seen her? Queen Swanwhite, I mean. Is she truly that beautiful?"

"No, I haven't. But I guess we'll get to soon." Winterberry sounds nervous. "I've never met a queen before. I'm sure she's really nice." I sincerely hope she's right.


	8. Chapter 8 - Winterberry

**Chapter 8 - Winterberry**

Two days later, we're still traveling. I've never been this far from the Western Woods, and it's fascinating. I never realized there was so much to see in Narnia: cascading rivers, an enormous glistening lake, and countless green hills and valleys. Griffins and birds soar overhead, dancing trails through the sky.

"What do you think of Narnia so far?" I ask Ember. She looks up from her sketchbook, where it appears she's drawing one of the griffins in flight. Tumblefoot clambers onto my head and listens in on her answer.

A smile spreads over Ember's face as she replies, "I love it! Everything here is so…whimsical."

"What do you mean?"

"Griffins, centaurs, fauns, nymphs." She shakes her head. "It's all just folklore back home. I never thought I'd actually get to see any of it."

A shadow appears on the horizon. It's just a silhouette at first, but then I recognize its shape. It's a silhouette that every Narnian knows by heart. The silhouette of legends.

The Stone Table.

With a gasp, I quicken my pace until I'm galloping towards it. Tumblefoot grips my hair to keep from falling off, but I hardly notice the pain. Behind me, someone calls my name, but I don't stop.

I skid to a halt a few feet from the Table, suddenly uncertain. Tumblefoot flies forward, following the momentum, and lands on the ground in front of me. Cautiously, I step closer to the Table, arm outstretched, brushing my fingers along the carved stone. My breath is gone, and tears begin to blur my vision. I never thought I'd get to come here, to the place where they killed _him_. Where he claimed the victory.

"What is this place?" Lûthriel asks from behind me. My companions have arrived, but I can't take my eyes from the Table. Thankfully, Tumblefoot answers them for me.

"This is the Stone Table," he says, a reverent tone in his little voice. He can't look away either.

"Oh, yes," Berenion recalls, all business. "I remember seeing that on the map. That means we aren't far from Cair Paravel. Although we've gone a little further south than we should have."

"No. Stop." I turn to face him, emotion burning in my voice. "It's more than just a landmark, a point on a map. This is _it_. _The_ Stone Table." They respond with blank looks.

"You really don't know?" Tumblefoot voices my disbelief. The Middle Earthens shake their heads. They've never seemed so foreign as they do now. Tumblefoot glances at me, and I begin the tale.

"Many centuries ago, there was an evil Witch who buried Narnia in an eternal winter. Two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve came, who were prophesied to end the winter and reign over Narnia. One of the Sons of Adam committed an atrocity, betraying his own brother and sisters to the Witch. For this, the Witch demanded that he die. But Aslan, the great Lion, the true and eternal King of Narnia, would not let it happen. He died in the boy's place on this very Stone Table by which we now stand." My voice breaks and tears trickle down my cheeks, but I keep going because this is my favorite part. "That would have been the end, but the next day at dawn, the table split down the middle and Aslan rose from the dead. He helped the children defeat the Witch and take their places as kings and queens of Narnia." I laugh through my tears. "He's still alive, somewhere. He is always here – whether we see him or not – always watching over Narnia and keeping it safe."

Tumblefoot stands with head bowed as I finish. Ember has teared up a little, and Berenion looks ashamed, perhaps about his earlier comment. Lûthriel's face is expressionless, but her eyes are happy. Héorim simply looks confused.

"Why would he do that?" He asks, cocking his head to one side. "If he's a king, why die for a child?"

"Aslan's love is infinite, and his anger terrible. He would never let anyone as evil as the Witch kill someone he loved. That's why every Narnian loves him with all their hearts. He is our King, and he will always do what's best for us." Even as I say it, my heart swells with love for Aslan, King of Narnia.


	9. Chapter 9 - Heorim

**Chapter 9 - Héorim**

A couple days later, I push my befuddled questions of Aslan to the back of my mind as Cair Paravel appears on the horizon. It rests proudly on a cliff overlooking the sea. Flags – each emblazoned with a single red lion – flutter above the turrets.

Berenion overtakes Winterberry as the leader now, straightening his back and trotting forward. Tumblefoot hops up and down in excitement on Winterberry's back when we pass the guards and enter the courtyard, where we dismount and follow a waiting faun. Before we go in, Berenion urges, "Let me do all the talking. Don't speak unless you are _specifically_ spoken to."

We nod our understanding, and we follow the faun into a vaulted marble hall studded with carved pillars on either side. It feels hollow, no matter how many guards stand at each doorway or how many servants skitter about.

I spot the queen at the other end of the hall, sitting daintily on her throne. Ember gives me a nervous smile, which I barely return. At least I'm not the only one with a fluttery stomach right now. At the queen's beckon, we approach the dais on which her throne sits. I stare decidedly at the floor, too nervous to do anything else.

"I heard news of your coming, but I did not think anything of it. What business do you have in Narnia?" the queen demands. Her voice is soft as the warmth of the morning sun.

In the unexpected silence that follows, I gather the courage to look up, and my jaw drops. Her hair is like spun silk, a waterfall of melted chocolate falling over a plum dress and tan skin. Her dainty nose and dark lips are framed by her softly tapered chin. But her eyes are what stop me dead. Golden and piercing, they hold an intense mix of calculation, intelligence, and quiet kindness. A hawk regards us proudly from its perch on the back of her throne.

Lûthriel, giving me a subtle glare, finally steps forward with a curtsy and answers. "Emmë tolo di sîdh, Queen Swanwhite of Narnia. We are travelers from Middle Earth, the land to the west of your borders. We have come to negotiate peace with you and your kingdom."

Queen Swanwhite studies our mismatched group, her expression unreadable. As her gaze passes over me, I realize I've been gawking and break my gaze, snapping my gaping mouth shut. I glance at Berenion, wondering why he wasn't the one to speak. He's staring at the queen like I was. He's much more discreet about it, but is clearly no less amazed at her beauty.

"For whom do you speak?" she asks.

Berenion starts, his eyes coming into focus. Blushing slightly, he speaks quickly. "We represent the Free Peoples of Middle Earth and their monarchs, especially the just King Aragorn Elessar of Gondor."

"You speak with fair words, sir, but I have never heard of this _Middle Earth_. How am I to know that you are not lying to me?" The queen's eyes narrow, boring into Berenion.

Never wavering, he replies readily, "We have a letter of peace signed by the king himself." I watch curiously as he tucks a hand into his tunic and produces a scroll sealed with red wax imprinted with the White Tree of Gondor.

The queen takes the scroll from him and reads it silently. She exchanges a few quiet words with the hawk at her shoulder before turning back to us.

"If you are our neighbors, how is it that I have never heard of your kingdom before now?" I hear Winterberry shuffle her hooves nervously behind me. It's a very good question, and I look to Berenion to answer it. But instead of answering, he gives a stare reminiscent of a man who's been caught stealing an object of great value. He stammers, his mouth gaping wide. I look urgently to the others, but it seems no one has any reply. Queen Swanwhite's breathtaking features contort in distrust.

Then, before I know what I'm doing, I step forward and say, "We came as explorers. We didn't know you were here either. We just want peace."

The queen's voice holds a harsh edge as she replies, "Do you think I can just accept peace offerings from any person who walks in here? You could be Calormenes trying to trick me! Bring me evidence of your authenticity as a nation, and you can have peace. But for now, I must do what's best for my kingdom. Guards! Remove them from my presence."


	10. Chapter 10 - Winterberry

**Chapter 10 - Winterberry**

The guards escort us from the castle and leave us and the horses on the beach outside the locked gates.

Panicked thoughts charge through my mind all at once: _we_ _got thrown out of Cair Paravel_ _,_ w _e offended the queen,_ _we –_ _oh,_ _dear Aslan help us_ _–_ _we offended the_ queen _! Father will be so_ _mad_ _. She could take us prisoner, make us spend the rest of our days in the dungeon!_

"Well, that didn't go as planned," Berenion says, running his fingers through his hair as we walk away from the castle.

" _Didn't go as planned_?" Ember repeats angrily, her ink-smudged hands balling into fists. "They threw us out! We're lucky we didn't get thrown in the dungeon. So much for _you_ doing the talking."

"I didn't expect–I mean…argh!" he roars, throwing his hands in the air.

"I _told_ you she was pretty," I scorn, unable to resist. I'm so annoyed and scared and fed up right now that I can't stop myself from letting some of it out.

Everyone starts talking at once, all talking over each other, arguing, complaining, blaming. Even me. Berenion and Héorim unsheath their swords and prepare to duel, still shouting at the top of their lungs. Ember and I can only shout louder, trying to make them stop while still blaming them. Lûthriel stands on the outside of the group, imploring us in rapid elvish, probably telling us to calm down. Everything comes to a sudden standstill when someone yells, "Quiet!"

Stunned, we all look around to find the speaker. Tumblefoot stands on the sand, glaring silently at each one of us, arms crossed. Under that stern stare, I forget everything I had been arguing about. My face grows warm, and I stare at the ground, flicking my tail, realizing how we're behaving: just like children.

Without a word being said, everyone seems to understand the same thing. Tumblefoot continues to stare us down until Berenion voices his concern. "What are we going to do? King Aragorn won't be at all happy if we return and tell him the queen refused his offer of peace. It could start a war!"

"The Guild will consider our expedition a failure," moans Héorim. Ember punches his shoulder, reminding him that that isn't the biggest problem right now.

Lûthriel's face has taken on a look of concentration – brow furrowed, hand on chin – and I know she's trying to think of any possible way we could fix this.

"Couldn't you just go back to Middle Earth, get the king to come along, then come back to show Queen Swanwhite your proof?" I suggest.

An emphatic "no" puts an end to that option. "It took weeks for us to get here, I don't think we can stand doing the whole journey" – Héorim counts on his fingers – "three more times."

Berenion and Ember nod their agreement. Lûthriel sits on the sandy beach, still thinking hard. Her face relaxes and she points at Berenion.

"Give me your bag," she commands. "The one with the documents and maps in it."

"Alright. Why?" he asks as he unstraps the bag from his horse's saddle and hands it to the elf. "Because maybe one parchment wasn't enough. Do you have the seals of any other kings?"

"No, just copies."

Lûthriel rifles through the bag and pulls out a chunk of sealing wax. At the sight of the wax, a sly smile spreads across Héorim's face.

"I know what we can do," he says. There's a tone of mischief in his voice that doesn't reassure me. He takes the bag and rifles through it a little more, pulling out blank sheets of parchment.

Realization dawns on Lûthriel's face. "Héorim! We can't!"

"What are you doing?" I ask hopefully. "What's your idea?"

He pulls more sheets of parchment from the bag and spreads them on the sand. "I'll tell you, but I don't think you'll like it. I can guarantee it'll get us that peace agreement, though."


	11. Chapter 11 - Heorim

**Chapter 11 - Héorim**

Reentering the palace the next morning, I can tell my companions are nervous. I'm confident it will work, but the guards' stares make me suspect they already know. I wish my mind didn't insist on imagining all the ways this could possibly go wrong. I let Berenion lead again (I hope he can keep his head this time), and we stride up to the queen's dais. Finally, I will prove that I'm not useless.

I keep my eyes trained over her shoulder to avoid the distraction she provides and try to ignore the nagging doubts that tug at my thoughts. Maybe we did a bad job. Maybe it isn't convincing enough. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, as the others tried to tell me.

 _Too late now_ , I tell myself, waiting for the queen to give Berenion permission to speak.

"You're back," she says, and I can hear the disapproving tone in her voice. "Have you brought the proof of Middle Earth's existence?" She asks it like it's a joke, like she's mocking us.

"Indeed we have, Your Royal Highness," Berenion answers. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I'm sure I hear his voice tremble. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the papers being passed forward and Queen Swanwhite taking them. "Documents signed and sealed by each of the kings of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth," he explains, "from Eriador to Rohan to Gondor."

The parchment rustles in the dainty hands of the monarch as she scrutinizes the documents and their wax insignias. The moments drag out, my heartbeat growing more frantic with every second. Finally, after what feels like hours, she looks up and hands the papers back to Berenion. He takes them with steady hands and tucks them back into his satchel.

Hope floods my chest, and I gather the confidence to look at Queen Swanwhite for her acceptance of the peace treaty. She's just as unspeakably radiant and unreadable as ever.

"I congratulate you," she says, smiling gently. I can almost hear the relief emanating from my friends, and I release my own breath as quietly as possible. I hadn't even realized I was holding it. "It must have taken you quite some time to forge these papers."

My blood runs cold as she continues. "The ink seems quite fresh, but from the state you're all in, you've been traveling for weeks. The insignias on the wax look slightly rough, like they were carved by sticks and stones. The handwriting is all the same, including the signatures" – Lûthriel goes stiff at her words, her hands still shaking from the hours of writing – "and the biggest giveaway?" The queen's lips slant in amusement, her eyebrows lift in sympathy. "You just look _so_ guilty. Guards." She says it so calmly, so off-handedly. The hawk on the back of the throne stares triumphantly at me with one eye. My insides shrivel as I anticipate her next words.

"Lock them up in the dungeons."

Whispers wind through the air to my ears again, somehow penetrating the bustle of the castle, as five centaurs grab us from behind, pinning our hands behind our backs. They take my sword and Berenion's, Lûthriel's bow and quiver, and Ember's sketchbook and quill, and drop them unceremoniously to the floor. Tumblefoot tries to scurry away and out of the castle, but a leopard leaps forward and pins the squirrel's tail to the floor. He squirms, but the leopard takes him up gently into his mouth.

I glance back at the queen when we reach the door of the throne room. Queen Swanwhite is watching us thoughtfully. The hawk's arrogant glare makes my blood boil. I wish I could strangle it. I want to break free of the centaur's strong grip. I want to run away, back to Middle Earth, back to Rohan, where I know I'm safe from queens and centaurs and mysterious whispers.

We're dragged past curious sets of eyes on our way down the stairways into the dark dungeons. I'm shoved into a barred cell with Berenion. Ember, Winterberry, and Lûthriel are in the cell across from us, and Tumblefoot is locked in a cage by the staircase. The centaurs and leopard stride up the stairs, their footsteps echoing against the stone. I hear the door slam shut and a key jingle in the lock. That's when I fall into despair.


	12. Chapter 12 - Winterberry

**Chapter 12 - Winterberry**

The guards have hardly left before my stomach tightens. I've never been confined like this before. I whip around, looking anxiously for a window. A small square hole at the top of our cell's wall is all I can find. I put my face to it, gulping the fresh air, glimpsing pieces of the seaside where we stood not an hour ago.

When I turn back to the room, Ember is sitting on a lumpy cot in the corner, tapping her fingers restlessly upon her knee while Lûthriel sits straight-backed next to her. Across the room, Héorim sits dejectedly on his cot, head buried in his hands. Berenion paces back and forth across their shared cell. Tumblefoot is making an awful row in his cage, shaking the bars and yelling at the top of his squeaky voice.

We are truly a sorry sight. I wish someone would say something. This silence is so much worse than the argument we had on the beach. The tense, miserable moments linger on, relieved only by Tumblefoot's shouting, and I slump to the ground to pick at my hooves.

Finally, when Tumblefoot is worn out and silence prevails, Héorim says, "I'm sorry." His voice is a little muffled as he talks into his hands. "I'm so sorry. I thought it would work; I thought it would be simple. I thought I was being helpful, that I finally had an idea that gave me a purpose on this expedition." He releases a mirthless laugh. "Look where it got us."

Ember looks confused. "What do you mean, 'gave you a purpose'? You already _had_ one."

"No, I didn't. I was just the boy who knows a little about horses. What use is that, really?"

Lûthriel frowns. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

Héorim, without looking up, asks glumly, "Tell me what?"

"Gandalf the White _himself_ chose you for this expedition."

"No, he didn't." Héorim's tone is unbelieving. When he realizes she's not joking, he inquires, "Why would he do that?"

Ember goes to the bars of our cell and smiles softly. "Oh, Héorim. You really don't think you count for anything. Humble to the point of misery." She sighs, fingering the bars."Those voices you hear, the ones you told me about? Gandalf sensed that you had magic about you. He knew that you would be able to hear things others couldn't. He sent you to teach you to recognize your powers before he helps you develop them."

"But Lûthriel can hear them, too," Héorim points out.

"That is only because I'm an elf," Lûthriel counters. "I hear them, yes, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot understand them."

"Well, neither can I."

"Have you really tried?" A knowing smile crosses Lûthriel's face at Héorim's silence.

"I'm confused," I admit from my spot on the floor. My fingers work out my anxiety by going through the familiar motions of braiding my tail. "Who is Gandalf?"

"He's a powerful wizard in Middle Earth," Berenion explains. "Mentorship from him is highly sought after by prospective magicians. To be specially selected by him is an enormous honor."

"That's amazing, Héorim!" I tell him. "How could you not know? Why did no one tell you?"

Lûthriel glares accusingly at Berenion. "That is a very good question."

Berenion spreads his hands defensively. "I thought you were going to tell him!"

It looks like an argument is about to begin, but then Héorim hushes them and waves his hands, signaling for everyone to be quiet. "If Gandalf thought I would be helpful, then I'm going to prove to him that I can be," he mumbles. His eyes screw closed and he waits for minutes on end. The rest of us watch him breathlessly. I can't hear a single thing.

"I hear them, but…" he listens again. "I did it! I understood!" Héorim jumps to his feet.

"I knew you could do it if you tried!" Ember cries, clapping her hands.

"What are they saying?" I ask.

He's quiet, concentrating. "They say the wizard is coming."


	13. Chapter 13 - Heorim

**Chapter 13 - Héorim**

"Wait, what?" Berenion looks confused. "The _wizard_ is coming? As in Gandalf the White?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It just said 'the wizard'."

"What is it that's talking to you?" Berenion asks. "How do we know we can trust it?"

"I don't know," I admit, shrugging helplessly. "I first heard them when we climbed the mountains on the border. You remember, Lûthriel?"

Lûthriel nods. "Yes, I remember it well. They got louder as we came into Narnia, too. Especially in the woods."

"Oh!" Winterberry looks excited. "The dryads! I've been told that they speak to each other in a magical tongue, but I've never heard it. They would know that a wizard was coming, as trees grow all over Narnia and their news travels fast. And that must be how Queen Swanwhite knew of our arrival."

"That makes sense," Ember agrees. "But why is this wizard - whichever wizard it is - coming?"

No one has an answer, leaving the dungeon air silent. Then Winterberry asks cautiously, "When did Tumblefoot get so quiet?"

I look around to the cage in the corner, the one Tumblefoot had been locked up in. The door hangs open, and it's empty.

"Where did he go?" asks Berenion. "The little rodent was just there, making an awful racket."

Winterberry glares at him. "He isn't a rodent."

"The cage is open," Lûthriel observes, moving to the corner of her cell to inspect it through the bars. "Maybe he found a way out."

"Without telling us?" Winterberry questions skeptically, crossing her arms. "I don't think so."

"Well, unless you have a better suggestion, that has to be it," I say. "Not even a _talking_ squirrel can vanish into thin air."

"Look!" Ember cries, pointing at the stairway. I look as instructed, and there, standing on the bottom step, with a key in his paw and a glint in his eye, stands Tumblefoot.

Swinging the key back and forth on his finger, he says, "While you were all standing here talking, I made myself useful. Now, who wants to be unlocked first? How about the ladies?" He struts to their cell, climbs the bars, and inserts the key into the lock. It turns with a click and the door swings open with a loud squeal. We all cringe.

"How did you get out?" Winterberry asks him, exiting her cell with a look of relief.

"Let's just say the queen needs to put some better locks on these cages." Tumblefoot comes over to our cell and unlocks it. We open it slowly, but it still whines on its hinges. "They could use some more oiling, too, it appears."

"What do we do now?" Ember asks.

"I saw a servant's hall up there," Tumblefoot offers. "We could knock out the guards and get out that way."

"I don't believe this is an escape," Lûthriel argues, then looks at the rest of us. "Is it?"

I shrug and lead the way up the stairs. When we get to the top, I pull the door open as silently as possible. Two dwarves stand guard outside, one on either side of the door. Before I know what's happening, Winterberry has turned around and kicked one of the guards in the head, knocking him flat. The other guard jumps into action, but Winterberry kicks him, too.

"Good job," Ember commends her, eyes wide.

Winterberry smiles. "I've never done that before. It was kind of fun."

We step over the unconscious dwarves and cross the hallway to a plain wooden door. It swings open easily, but before we can step inside, a deep, commanding voice calls out to us.

"Lord Berenion! Where are you going, you fool?" An old, bearded man wearing a long white robe and wielding a polished staff marches toward us down the marble hallway. I swallow hard, and my palms begin to sweat. Gandalf the White has arrived.


	14. Chapter 14 - Winterberry

**Chapter 14 - Winterberry**

The old man exudes a sense of overwhelming power, and I'm immediately afraid of him. I assume he works for Queen Swanwhite and has come to punish us, so I try to push past my halted friends into the servant's hall.

"Winterberry!" The strong, hearty voice stops me in my tracks. Father trots down the hall toward me, hairy arms outstretched. I'm so stunned I can hardly return the hug he gives me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask when he releases me.

"This gentleman needed a guide to Cair Paravel, so I took the liberty of providing that service. I hope you're ashamed, getting yourself locked up like that. The one occasion on which I let you out alone!" Then he lowers his voice and mutters to me. "I missed you, Berry."

"I missed you, too, Father."

He smiles and wraps a warm arm around my shoulders.

The Middle Earthens greet the old man with awe, and Berenion gives him a short explanation of our adventures. Looking down at the unconscious dwarves, the old man smiles and says, "Well, isn't that unfortunate."

"I did that," I tell Father. He chuckles softly and squeezes my shoulders.

"Who is he?" I whisper to Ember.

"He's Gandalf," she whispers back.

"The wizard? Like the dryads said? But what is he doing here?"

"I am here, Miss Winterberry," Gandalf says, making me jump, "to assist you in your efforts of diplomacy. And, it would seem, to fix this rift which you appear to have made between our two nations, which the queen has told me all about." He stares blamefully at Berenion.

Berenion clears his throat awkwardly and moves on. "How did you get here so soon?"

"Oh, I began my journey about a week after you did. Upon further discussion, King Aragorn and I decided it may not have been the wisest choice to send a young, rather inexperienced diplomat to a possible kingdom with which we have had no past relations." The wizard's eyes sparkle with amusement. "This is a wondrous kingdom, is it not? It would be a shame to miss out on diplomacy with such a unique place. However, when Queen Swanwhite told us you were imprisoned here…" He chuckles. "Well, that was more than we had expected. We thought we should come and get the whole story from you first."

At that moment, a centaur guard rounds the corner and sees us. He shouts behind him, "The prisoners are escaping!"

Héorim tries to run into the servant's hall, but Lûthriel grabs his arm.

"There's no need for us to run," Gandalf tells us. "Indeed, it may be a speedier way to gain another audience with the queen."

Guards appear around the corner and lead us through the castle once again to the throne room. I'm getting a little tired of this.

"I must admit you're persistent," Queen Swanwhite sighs, tossing her silky hair.

"Dear queen," Gandalf begins with a bow, "we did not mean to release your prisoners. We simply wished to speak with them before continuing this business which I hope to discuss with you, as I told you previously."

"Then what were they doing out of their cells and standing over my unconscious guards?"

"They did what they believed to be right. I agree that it may not have been the most intelligent course of action" – he eyes Berenion pointedly – "but we have more important matters to discuss."

"Indeed. I wish to speak with this man alone," the queen tells her guards and waves the rest of us from the room. We're taken to the inner courtyard, where our horses still stand, chewing patiently on the grass. I take one last glance into the throne room before the heavy doors thud to a close, encasing the wizard and the queen within their confines.


	15. Chapter 15 - Heorim

**Chapter 15 - Héorim**

Gandalf emerges with a pleased smile only a few minutes later. I don't know how they came to such a rapid decision; surely they had much to discuss. A centaur follows him and hands us each our belongings.

"You're already done?" Ember inquires, clutching her sketchbook tightly. She sounds just as disbelieving as I am. She shakes her head, hair rippling gold in the sun. "How?"

"Tricks of the trade." He winks and waves at the gate. "Shall we?" He leads the way, and I share an amazed look with Ember before sheathing my sword, taking hold of Arodreth's reins, and following. We mount our steeds and take off from Cair Paravel.

Once we're a safe distance from the castle, I venture to ask Gandalf, "How did you do that? We were in so much trouble; surely she wouldn't have let us off that easily." My friends turn their heads to hear the answer.

"Oh, she can be quite reasonable," he tells us, his bright eyes shining mysteriously. "Queen Swanwhite is a wise ruler. I simply gave her the proof she asked for, and she agreed on peace."

"But how–" He impatiently waves my question away.

"By my beard, you do have to stick your nose into everything, don't you! If you wish to know such things, you shall have to wait until you have begun your apprenticeship with me." At my look of surprise, he adds, "I assume _someone_ thought to tell you about that?"

Lûthriel and Berenion shoot blameful glares at each other.

"Yes, they did," I say, giving the short answer. "But I wasn't sure it was true."

"Well, of course it's true, you fool. You have good magic stirring inside you, a rare instance in the race of Men. I intend for us to begin as soon as we arrive in Minas Tirith."

He moves away to speak with Berenion, and I fall behind. The truth slowly sinks in, slipping between my doubts. I get to learn from Gandalf the White himself. _M_ _e_ , a wizard one day. I'm so lost in daydreams that I don't notice Ember and Winterberry pull back and ride along on either side of me.

"That's amazing!" Winterberry exclaims. Tumblefoot is sprawled fast asleep on her back. "But…what does a wizard do, exactly?"

Before I can reply, Ember pipes up. "From what I've heard, wizards among Men aren't nearly as powerful as the Five. But they are still very helpful and respected. It's wonderful that you get to do this, Héorim. I know you'll be brilliant at it."

Blood rushes to my face, and I look down to hide it. When I look up again, Ember inquires, "Do you feel purposeful now?"

I nod decisively. "It's nice to know why I hear those voices, and that I'm not mad after all."

The girls laugh, and I frown slightly. Was I funny? I didn't mean to be.

"I still think you're mad," Winterberry assures me with a grin. Tumblefoot gives a particularly loud snore, and they laugh again. This time I join them.

"I have to admit I never thought I'd hear a snoring squirrel," Ember giggles.

"Me neither," I agree.

Winterberry whisks her tail at the sleeping animal on her back. "He isn't normally this loud. I suspect he's just trying to get attention."

Our company winds through the beautiful green hills of Narnia, and I slowly come to realize that I don't want to leave. I miss home, of course, and I can't wait to get started with my apprenticeship, but this kingdom has stolen a part of my heart. I have new friends because of it. I suppose I can come back someday for a visit, once I'm a wizard. I expect our two countries will intertwine somewhat in the future. I certainly hope they will.

When we arrive in Silverfall's glade a few days later, I join the others in a merry meal of fruit, bread, and cheese. Then we stretch out under the stars for our last night in Narnia. As I stare up at the unfamiliar constellations, I'm almost certain I hear a lion's roar among the night songs of the forest.


	16. Chapter 16 - Winterberry

**Chapter 16 - Winterberry**

The sun rises over the trees, and I with it. A lump in my throat is choking me, and I keep sniffling. I've never had to say goodbye before. It seems so strange that I've only known them a few weeks, and yet I feel so close to them. I suppose that's a side effect of offending a queen and getting thrown in a dungeon together. The memory makes me laugh a little. In retrospect, all of our escapades seem so silly. So wonderful. I stand silently at the edge of the cave, watching the peaceful, sleeping figures of my friends dotted across the glade. The woods are beginning to wake up. Birdsong twirls through the air, bees make their morning rounds, and deer wander warily around the clearing.

A comforting arm settles around my shoulders. "They'll come back someday," Father comforts me, but his words feel hollow. 'Someday' could mean years from now. A tear trickles gently down my cheek, and I turn my head away.

The first figure begin to stir and rise. I wipe my eyes, swallow the lump, and walk to Héorim with a forced smile. He squints up at me and stretches.

"Good morning," he mumbles. He frowns at his horse. "Ugh. Horses. I know I'm Rohirric, but I don't like them any more. I've found them to be mighty uncomfortable on long journeys."

I giggle softly. Leave it to Héorim to complain. I'm going to miss that. I take his hand and pull him to his feet just as, a few feet away, Ember sits up and rubs her eyes. The three of us sit in a small circle, silently eating and enjoying each other's company. None of us dares to mention the parting which is now so soon to come.

Once everyone has woken up and eaten, we hike through the woods to the mountains. When we pass under a low-hanging branch, something suddenly lands on my back. I scream and whip my head around to find Tumblefoot sitting on my flank and grinning ear to ear. Gandalf leads everyone in laughter, and – once my heartbeat has slowed – I join them. We halt at the mountains' feet, right where I'd hesitated only a few weeks before. Looking up, I notice that the mountains don't look quite so intimidating anymore.

Ember turns to me, eyes brimming with tears. She gives me a quivering smile and throws her arms around me. I return the hug wholeheartedly. Somehow I manage to keep my tears down.

"I'm going to miss you," I tell her, and pull away. "Did you get some good sketches?"

She nods. "The Venturer's Guild may not even believe me about some of them. Centaurs, for instance." She smiles and says, "Goodbye, Winterberry." I bid her farewell, and she steps away.

Héorim stands silently at the edge of the group with his back to me. I step up beside him and notice that his eyes are rimmed red. "I'm not crying, in case you're wondering," he assures me bravely, but his voice wobbles.

"Of course not." I hide a smile as best I can.

He offers me his hand, and I shake it. "It's been a pleasure meeting you," he says in measured and official tones.

"And you," I reply. Then I can stand it no longer. I throw my arms around him. Héorim tenses, but I ignore it. "Thank you for being my friend, even for just a few weeks."

"You're welcome." His voice comes out a bit higher than usual. He clears his throat and adds, "And, uh, thanks for being mine. I guess. I hope I can come visit sometime."

"I look forward to it, Mister Wizard."

He smiles slightly.

I say a quick goodbye to Lûthriel, Berenion, and Gandalf before the group finally leaves. I wave for as long as I can see them. Then, when they are no longer in sight, the tears spill over. They are happy tears, though. Happy because I made new friends, happy because it all worked out, and happy because I might see them again one day. Maybe I'll even travel to Middle Earth myself one day. Maybe I can explore their world of Hobbits, Elves, Men, and Dwarves just as they explored mine. After all, the only way to know what lies beyond the horizon is to go and see for yourself.


End file.
